A Substitute Wife for the Prizefighter: A Victorian Romance

by Alice Coldbreath

  “It that doesn’t just serve you right, Jennifer!” he complained, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. “Wherever I take you it is always the same! Causing scenes and showing off! I’m sure I don’t know why I bother!”

  “Ohhhhh,” Jennifer moaned. “Her fingers burned into my skin, Cedric. I’m sure she cursed me!”

  “She did not curse you,” Lizzie said firmly.

  The girl’s frightened eyes rolled toward her. “How can you be sure?” she wailed and began to weep noisily.

  “If she had cursed you, there would have been a good quantity of colored smoke filling the tent,” Lizzie improvised. “I have seen the goddess curse many people, and you she did not curse, for she liked the look of your companion.”

  Cedric’s rather thin chest puffed out at this. “There, there you see,” he said comfortingly and patted her gloved hand. “Let me buy you a cup of hot, spiced wine. You will feel better presently, I daresay.”

  “The very thing!” Lizzie approved. “Or a nice cup of hot sweet tea for the shock she has had.”

  Cedric thanked her profusely, and when she drew her hand away from a vigorous handshake, she found he had tipped her handsomely.

  “Only let this be a lesson to you, my dear,” she heard him taxing the unfortunate Jennifer as he led her away.

  When Lizzie returned to the tent, she found the queue outside the tent was heaving and three times as long as it had been before. Connie nodded to her as she and Sebastian passed by her in the entrance. “Nicely done, my dear,” she said. “We’ll miss you at Banbury.”

  Lizzie felt quite sentimental by the time she’d finished for the evening. As the fair did not start until twelve, it was long past nine by the time things were wound up in the Wonderous Females tent.

  Suppressing a yawn, Lizzie made her way toward the Toomes Family boxing saloon when, to her surprise, she noticed a familiar figure lurking outside. It was the solid respectable figure of Josiah Anderson. “Uncle!” she uttered in astonishment.

  He gave a violent start on hearing her voice and wheeled about. “Lizzie!” he gasped faintly, his eyes raking over her.

  “Were you looking for me?” she asked, quite flabbergasted to see him in such surroundings.

  He swallowed, his whiskered chin quivering. “I am,” he admitted hoarsely.

  Lizzie turned to look at the boxing tent, which was clearly in full swing. Cries and shouts rang out from the rowdy patrons within. Daphne stood at the entrance, momentarily distracted by the stream of people waiting admittance. She tossed her hair and laughed uproariously at something some wag said to her.

  “It looks like it will be a good while until Benedict will be finished for the evening,” Lizzie said eyeing the queue. “Should we go for some refreshment, Uncle?”

  Her uncle looked frankly relieved. “I will own, I think that a good notion,” he said, unbending slightly in his rigid stance.

  “I believe I saw a tea tent in this direction,” Lizzie said, leading him resolutely away from the boxing saloon. She could not imagine such a place would earn her uncle’s good opinion. Indeed, she imagined he was loathing every minute of the noisy fair. What on earth had brought him here? she wondered distractedly. Had he come to check on her welfare?

  Five minutes later, they were sat looking at each other over a small table in a quieter, though still busy, tea tent. Sebastian sat at Lizzie’s knee, alert and on guard, as though he had picked up on her own tension. “Shall I pour?” Lizzie asked, when her uncle sat grave and silent. He acquiesced with a quick movement of his hands before placing them both on the tablecloth before him.

  “How did you know to find us here?” Lizzie marveled. “I know Annie saw us at Greenwich, but for you to trace us here is quite another thing.”

  Her uncle swallowed and seemed incapable of speech for a full minute. “I made … enquiries,” he said with effort. “And found the most likely sites for you to have moved onto were either here or Chelmsford. I traveled into Essex yesterday, fruitlessly. Today, well,” he gestured toward her. “My quest is over,” he said heavily and without joy. “For I have found you.”

  Lizzie placed the teapot down and surveyed him quizzically. “You sound rather as though you had found a corpse than your living niece,” she commented wryly.

  Her uncle’s cheeks turned purple. “All wrongdoing is sin, but there is sin that does not lead to death,” he intoned hollowly.

  “Indeed?” Lizzie said coolly. “Is that what you sought me out to inform me?” She held out his teacup, and he could not quite meet her eyes as he took it from her.

  “You are right to upbraid me,” he said after a moment’s heavy silence. “I am all too well aware of my own part in bringing you low. You were in quite desperate straits, and Mr. Toomes took despicable advantage of that fact. I can only suppose he meant to be revenged on us by ruining you. I am well aware that such a course of action would never have occurred to you, if you had not been cast out friendless and alone – ”

  “Uncle – ”

  He held up a forbidding hand. “No, Lizzie. I am fully sensible of my role in your downfall, and there can be no denying it is a considerable one.”

  “But you see – ”

  “Allow me to say my piece, my child,” he insisted.

  “Only if you will allow me to respond in kind at its close!”

  He blinked at this, but nodded he was willing. “I suppose that is only fair and part of my penance,” he said heavily.

  Lizzie sighed and folded her arms. “Continue, then. I will hear you out however erroneous your conclusions.”

  He ignored this, carrying on doggedly. “I cannot, of course, ever admit you again into my home. Not while Betsy remains there, an innocent who could be contaminated by such company. There are, however, certain worthy institutions where you could seek refuge – ”

  “I’m going to have to interrupt you there, Uncle Josiah!” Lizzie put in smartly. She pulled off her left glove and brandished her hand. “I am not even remotely ruined, and Betsy need have nothing to fear from my society.” She saw his watery gaze alight and fasten on the ring there. “Until my marriage, I resided in female only lodgings with people who stood true friends to me in my hour of need. I neither require your help or that of any worthy charity, I assure you.”

  His chest heaved. “Am I to understand that Mr. Toomes has made you his wife?”

  “You are.”

  His rheumy gaze rested on her heavily. “Annie did mention he made such a claim, but I assumed this was mere subterfuge – ” he broke off. “Well, that is something indeed, that he has given you the protection of his name. Yet, despite this mark of respect, I find he has still seen fit to bring you into this low company.”

  Lizzie checked the hot words that sprang to her tongue. “His family is also part of this company,” she pointed out quietly. “I am sure you would not encourage me to look down on my husband’s own kin.”

  Uncle Josiah shook his head. “When I negotiated the terms of Betsy’s marriage, Benedict Toomes told me he had fully renounced all such associations. I saw deeds to a respectable house, details of investments and savings that would assure her future. Yet you he sees fit to drag from one immoral cesspit to another.” He shook his head. “I fear you have made a bad bargain, Lizzie.”

  “Well, I had no one to negotiate on my behalf, did I?” she responded tartly and saw him color. “I had no fond father to fight my corner, for your brother is dead.” That shaft, too, sank home, and her uncle’s mottled purple cheeks took on a waxy glow. Lizzie took a quick breath. “But Benedict Toomes did marry me in God’s house and our union was duly witnessed, so you need have no fear for my immortal soul, even if I am surrounded with what you deem to be low company.”

  She stood and her uncle hastily leapt to his feet. “I assure you, Uncle, that my role in what happened does not trouble my conscience and neither does it keep me awake at night plagued by fears of judgement. I was always a good niece to you and my aunt and did my
best by my cousin despite a lack of any true sympathy or understanding between us. As for the actions that saw me thrown from your house, I abided by the tenets and principles of the faith you raised me in. I spoke nothing but the God-given truth and refused moreover to bear false witness, something you saw fit to punish and ostracize me for.”

  Her uncle’s breathing was ragged by this point, and his eyes darted anywhere they could to avoid her own. “What’s worse is that I think you must have known deep down. No one was more shocked than I by Reverend Milson’s perfidy.”

  “You shall not say so,” her uncle said feebly. “The reverend must be beyond reproach. Our community has invested heavily in his cause and – ”

  Lizzie broke him off with a sharp laugh. “He’s a thief, Uncle. If you have invested heavily in him, then I feel sorry for you. Such a course of action will surely end in disaster. The one on the road to ruin is you, not I.” She gave him one last truly pitying look and then turned on her heel.

  “Wait!” he called after her hoarsely, but Lizzie did not attend. She hurried straight out of the tea tent with Sebastian on her heels and collided straight into a figure lingering in the entrance.

  Lizzie was already apologizing when she realized it was Daphne loitering there. “Are you spying on me again?” she demanded with sudden suspicion. Daphne bridled, looked as though she would deny it for a moment, but then seemed to suffer a change of heart.

  “What if I am?” she challenged. “Someone needs to keep an eye on what you’re up to! I saw you sneaking off with yet another man! The Toomes’ may think you’re something special, but I knows better!” she sneered, plunking her hands on her hips.

  Lizzie regarded her with exasperation. “I haven’t got time for this right now, Daphne,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure her uncle wasn’t about to appear. She started to move away, but Daphne kept apace with her.

  “So, who was he, then? Your latest fancy man?”

  Lizzie ignored her, her brain teeming with the information her uncle had just imparted. Apparently, she had been wrong in thinking Benedict had lied about having money and a house to secure Betsy’s hand in marriage. Uncle Josiah said he had seen deeds and accounts. Had they been falsified? Or was it possible Benedict had a secret life he had not told her of, one where he did not live in a wagon touring from fair to fair?

  Lizzie’s mind reeled. Daphne buzzed on the edge of her thoughts like an annoying fly, flinging accusations and suspicions at her. Sebastian’s ears were stood up, and he looked alert and watchful as he gazed between the two women. They had crossed the field and were entering the campsite now. Lizzie swung around and faced Daphne squarely.

  “I should probably tell you that I’ve written to Maggie and told her the truth.”

  Daphne’s haranguing abruptly stopped. “What did you say?” she demanded shrilly.

  “I told her that Frank’s father and grandmother lied and that he had not betrayed her.”

  Daphne forced a leer onto her face, though it was clear she was shaken. “That’s what you say, but I knows different.”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t suppose he’s looked twice at you,” Lizzie retorted.

  A furious look passed over the other woman’s face, and she surged forward with a vengeful screech, bowling Lizzie clean off her feet. “You rotten, interfering little bitch!”

  Lizzie lay a moment, stunned and winded. No sooner had Daphne dropped her full weight on top of her than she landed a wild punch to Lizzie’s face.

  White exploded in Lizzie’s face, and she realized she had been punched in her left eye. Abruptly, Daphne gave a horrible gurgling scream as something barreled into her in a blur of dark fur, knocking her off Lizzie.

  Lizzie struggled to her knees. “Sebastian!” she croaked, crawling over to where Daphne lay still and limp as a rag doll. Sebastian’s eyes rolled, showing his whites, his great jaws clamped about Daphne’s neck.

  “Oh my God!” Lizzie cried in a shaken voice. Then her blurry vision cleared, and she saw Daphne’s terrified expression and realized she was still alive. “Release her, Sebastian. At once!” She had to get a hand to Sebastian’s collar before he would draw back and even then it was with a show of resistance. “Back, Sebastian!” She shoved the animal behind her, and he made a disgruntled noise in his throat.

  Lizzie wrenched the flimsy scarf from Daphne’s neck to check what she was sure would be a horribly mangled throat, but to her relief the skin was unpunctured.

  Daphne’s terrified eyes gazed up at her. “Am I done for?” she choked out. “I can feel my life’s blood trickling down me neck!”

  “That’s drool,” Lizzie explained, extracting her handkerchief from her sleeve. “He drooled all over you but has not drawn any blood.” She mopped at Daphne’s neck and showed her. “See?”

  Reassured, Daphne burst promptly into tears. “’E’s dangerous, that brute!”

  “Keep your voice down. He might take it into his head to tear your throat out next time.”

  Daphne’s eyes widened and she put a hand to her neck with a gasp.

  “You should not have attacked me,” Lizzie said severely, and for the first time she felt the throb of her own eye. “You punched me in the face,” she said incredulously.

  Daphne sniffed. “Well, you’ve gone and properly queered me pitch, so I’d say we was even.”

  Lizzie flopped down beside her and felt around her eye. It already felt slightly puffy. She gave a groan. “What am I going to tell Benedict?”

  “Never mind that,” Daphne sniffed. “Who’s going to take over my duties?” she demanded. “You? The only man you’ve ever enticed is Benedict Toomes! Going to pick up all my cooking and cleaning after the Toomes menfolk and caring of the old gal, are you?” She snorted.

  “Certainly not, I have my own man to take care of,” Lizzie answered coolly. “As for Ma, she’s cleared out.”

  Daphne’s mouth dropped open. “What?” she squawked.

  “She didn’t sleep in the wagon with you last night, did she?”

  “Well, no, but – ”

  “There you are, then. She’ll be halfway to Shropshire by now. Probably hitched a ride on a hay wagon. She won’t be coming back.”

  Daphne was clearly flummoxed by this news. “She would have told me!” she rallied.

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Lizzie replied with a quiet firmness which seemed to take the air out of the other woman’s sails.

  Daphne’s shoulders slumped. “What about me?” she demanded aggressively. “What am I supposed to do now? You tell me that, my fine lady!”

  Lizzie regarded her a moment in heavy silence. “Is there any way that you and Maggie could make up your differences?” she asked wearily. After all, Daphne was very good at drawing in the spectators to the boxing tent, and Lizzie had a sneaking suspicion Maggie would be just as useless at that as she was.

  “Hardly!” Daphne scoffed. “You know what my old mum told her. What I let her believe about her husband and me carrying on,” she muttered angrily. “Soon as Frank finds out, I’ll be out on me ear!”

  “Could you join your mother and Pa Toomes wherever they’ve gone?” Lizzie suggested. “At the seaside.”

  “What? Just roll up there, another mouth to feed after they told me they’d handed Frank to me like a ripe plum? Oh, yes, vastly pleased to see me, they’d be!” she said bitterly.

  “Well, realistically, what are your choices?” Lizzie asked.

  Daphne rested her chin on her hands a moment, sunk in thought. “I reckon I’m due some reparation for the past year I’ve spent skivvying for this family,” she muttered sulkily. “Threw a good number of punters their way too, I did. And let me tell you, before Benedict returned to the fold, they weren’t putting half as good a showing as they are now! Scraping the barrel they was, some days.”

  “I can well believe it,” Lizzie admitted. “But I don’t have any money to give to you.”

  Daphne tapped a finger against her chin. “
What if you was to help me now?” she suggested boldly. “What if we was to hitch up that wagon that me and Ma been sharing to one of the cobs, and I showed a clean pair of heels before the menfolk returned?”

  Lizzie considered. Perhaps, all told, it would be for the best. An ugly scene was sure to ensue once Frank’s wife returned armed with the truth. And Pa Toomes was the one who had devised the scheme to get rid of his daughter-in-law. In some lights, Daphne could be seen as something of a pawn, simply trying to get by in life.

  “Very well,” she responded after a moment’s consideration.

  Daphne blinked. “You’re a cool one, ain’t you?” she marveled. “I half feel sorry for the poor bugger what falls afoul of you.” She dropped her hand from her neck, and Lizzie saw it was showing some redness. There would be nasty bruising on the morrow.

  “We had better not delay,” Lizzie said briskly. “If we pack up your things and get you on the road, Jack and Frank will think you and Ma departed together. That way they won’t kick up a fuss about the missing horse and wagon.”

  Daphne nodded and clambered to her feet. Once there, she stuck down a hand to Lizzie who took it, for she felt a little dizzy, clambering to her feet. “Sebastian,” she called looking around. He bounded forward with his tongue lolling out, and Lizzie heard Daphne’s sharply indrawn breath. “Here, boy.”

  Twenty minutes later, Lizzie and Sebastian watched the wagon pull out onto the track and head out toward the road. Daphne turned in the seat and waved. “No offence,” she cried. “But I hope to God our paths never cross again, Lizzie Toomes.”

  Lizzie nodded. “Good luck to you, Daphne!” she called, and then turned and headed for their own wagon.

  Lizzie felt worn out and fed up. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,” she said to Sebastian as she gathered sticks for the fire. Deep down she knew all right. Benedict would be looking for her in the main arena. For the life of her, Lizzie could not muster the energy to return there now. It had been a long day, and she just wanted to curl up in front of the fire and nurse her wounds.